


astral arithmetic

by serenfire



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Road Trip, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, ColdFlash Week, M/M, all the imagery, non-linear POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-15
Updated: 2015-09-15
Packaged: 2018-04-20 22:41:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4804856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenfire/pseuds/serenfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Len is never going on a road trip like this again, not even for Barry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	astral arithmetic

**Author's Note:**

> @anyone I know irl: do not read thanks

The fourth world they travel to is filled with blank-faced office workers, plodding to and from their day jobs and caffeine fixes. It’s so different and unassuming from the last sights they have been met with, and at the sight, Barry laughs into Len’s shoulder, taking in the scent of crushed grass from the meadow they’d perused not twenty seconds ago.

Len tugs his parka up further, mockingly scowling at the physical contact. “How long did you say the Speed Force would spit you places?”

“The last time it got as unbalanced as this, about a week,” shrugs Barry.

“If I’m going to be stuck with you on this godawful road trip for seven days, Allen, then I need at least a change of clothes.”

The people around them, existing somewhere far from Central City and the continental United States, brush past the two stragglers without making eye contact.

“How bad do we look?” Barry frowns, inspecting his Flash suit, covered in grass stains and singed beyond recognition. The dragon had been intense.

“Like we should be in a warzone, Allen,” says Len, scratching at the remains of his jeans. “Can’t you get the Speed Force to drop us off at a laundromat?” He wiggles his fingers covered in dried blood.

“If the Speed Force worked like that, we wouldn’t be in this situation, would we?”

Barry feels lightning attach to his feet, crackling up his thighs. The taste of blood somewhere beyond his physical nose follows, and Barry turns to grab a fistful of Len’s parka. “If the Speed Force likes you and not me, we’re not friends anymore,” he growls as he prepares for a time jump.

“Don’t be jealous, it’s just playing matchmaker,” Len assures him, and leans in for a kiss.

***

Barry opens his eyes to almost darkness. He’s stranded in bedsheets, the calculations of all his anxiety graphed out in the rumples and creases. Somewhere between an alternate universe subway route and here his clothes have disappeared, the soft hoodie and third-rate sweatpants stolen.

He stirs in the sheets and fels textures under the pads of his bloodstained fingers unlike any he has felt before. He leans back on the sumptuous pillows, the burn on his ribcage ache relaxing.

“Len?” he calls softly from his perch.

“I’m here,” the man responds, and Barry cranes his neck to see him. Len sits on the windowsill, shaded in open curtains that frame a breathtaking picture of the man and the cityscape beyond. Len is in nothing but a bathrobe, as pale as hotel bleach, and Barry takes a moment noticing the soft lines of his neck and inner knee.

“Where are we? How did I get here?” he asks.

“What do you remember?” murmurs Len, as softly as before, not turning from gazing at the midnight lights.

“We were in a grocery store.”

Memories come unbidden to Barry as he ascends from dreaming. They had been weighing the different brands of apples as Len made a show of hiding the plums in the many pockets of his fifth parka, a downy brown thing that brought out the color in his eyes. Barry was giggling helplessly, then dropping apples hopelessly, and they spattered on the ground left and right, the shine akin to the stains hidden under their clothes.

“Do you remember what happened next?” asks Len gently. Barry blinks to see the man facing toward him, slouching ungainly against the floor-to-ceiling window, the bathrobe half off his shoulders, ankles drawn up and spread wide on the marble. The very picture of ease and seduction, as well as something more heavy to contemplate.

“I don’t remember.” croaks Barry, throat dry. He stares, glued to the living artwork adjusting positions in front of him, and Len knows it.

“You blacked out when you fizzed through the Speed Force,” says Len. “So naturally, I broke into the nearest penthouse to rest.”

A feeling expands in Barry’s vocal cords, uncomfortable like a balloon expanding. He juts his chin, gesturing to the skyline. “Where do you think we are?”

“As far as I can tell, Shanghai, with more blimps than last I remember,” Len says. “You coming over here or not, Allen?”

Barry glides out of the silken bed, immersing bare feet in the thick shag carpet, and walks to the window. Beyond the glass barrier, lights shine and buildings soar above the blimp layer. The nightlife is still strong at the ground level, and the two travellers on the top floor are completely alone.

Len reaches out to run his palm over Barry’s pec and hip as the Speed Force dances at the edge of Barry’s senses.

Not yet, he urges wordlessly as he turns to Len’s touch. At least wait until we find some clothes.

***

“That’s a dragon,” blinks Barry, openmouthed at the crouching, scaled sight before them.

Len scoffs, charging his Cold Gun up and watching the terrified townspeople quake in the corner of the cave, mingling with the moss of the earth. “Did you doubt Sir Timothy’s valiant quest for us?”

“Dragon’s aren’t real, Len,” growls Barry. “And why am I the diversion?”

“I’m the only one with a weapon.” Len shakes his head at the metahuman. “Dragons aren’t real, Allen, really? You’re a walking -- running -- contradiction, that’s what you are. And you have the audacity--”

“Does it look angry to you? It looks very angry to me,” breathes Barry, cheeks pale and toes tapping arhythmic blues in the grass.

Len considers the animal snarling at the foot of the cave. They may have crossed the friendship line when they untied the dragon’s living but tasty snacks.

“On my count,” starts Len, judging hind legs speed off the cuff. Faster than humans: check. “Go.”

Barry’s off in a whish of dandelions, scattering the seeds as he tumbles into the dragon, and then darts out of reach.

Len takes aim down the Cold Gun’s sights, and Barry dances red at the edges of his vision.

“How long is this road trip going to be, anyway?” he grumbles as he fires.

In response, Barry just laughs.

**Author's Note:**

> shamelessly self promoting my [tumblr](http://www.tylerjosephstoast.tumblr.com) here.


End file.
